


commitment

by aweekofsaturdays



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2017 NHL Expansion Draft, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 22:13:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11322762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aweekofsaturdays/pseuds/aweekofsaturdays
Summary: Vegas picks up Flower, as expected. Everything is going to change.A short sequel toRecognition.





	commitment

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Tabs & Emmett for looking over this one and crying about Flower with me.
> 
> As always, this story is about fictional characters and has no bearing on or relation to anything in real life.

Sidney’s face is warm in his hands when Marc-Andre kisses his forehead. Sid’s skin is soft and dry, and his eyes are damp when Marc-Andre pulls away. There have been too many nights spent talking about this recently instead of just enjoying the time they have left, too many nights trying to put to bed something that seems like it’s been fated to be broken long ago. 

But it takes a certain kind of stubbornness to hang onto the pieces after something’s been strained or fractured, and too many sunrises (not before gameday of course) had come to the horizon with a dogged acknowledgement that sleep is required to move any further, and _we’ll come back to it, I promise_. They fall asleep in each others’ arms, or curled around Vero when she’s home, waking up to her kisses and her soft hair on their faces. It’s always decided that they’ll figure it out later.

The day draws closer, inevitable in its implications. Sidney is miserable and it hurts, and Marc-Andre kisses his forehead and his eyelids and the bridge of his nose and holds him, just holds him, feeling the weight of his thick body pressing Flower into their bed. Of course he is who he is and so he almost feels bad about sliding his hands lower on Sid’s body, stroking his palms up and down Sid’s trim waist. He ghosts his fingers over Sid’s ass, petting him lightly through his thin sleep pants, and Sid shivers, tucks his face into the crook of Flower’s neck and lifts his hips a little into Marc-Andre’s hands.

Flower knows Sid a little too well, which means that Sid’s not gonna make the play here without some encouragement and they both know it, so Flower slides his hands underneath the soft fabric at Sid’s hips, strokes up and down slowly until Sid huffs out a frustrated breath against Flower’s neck and lifts up to kiss him. 

Marc-Andre will never get tired of how Sid kisses, how he’s careful, and precise, and firm. He also will never get tired of how Sid’s kisses change. They get rougher when he gets more desperate, and sloppier after he’s gone down on Flower and comes up for air. Flower loves it best when Sid’s mouth is slack from orgasm, panting out his breath and letting himself be kissed, thoroughly.

Sid drags his pants and Flower’s shorts down impatiently, sighing in relief when he feels skin on skin, and they come like that, rubbing off against each other like the teenagers they remember being, shaking together and holding on tightly.

When they come up for air, Sid kisses him fiercely, a hand at the back of Flower’s neck possessively. He comes up to look Marc-Andre straight in the eye, ferocious in his resolve. Flower’s seen the look in the faceoff circle a thousand times (and a few in their time off the ice), and he knows what it means now before Sid can say it.

“Nothing’s gonna change,” Sid promises fiercely. “Not the stuff that matters, anyway.” He sighs, and presses another kiss to Flower’s lips; soft, thorough, marking his place.

Flower sighs too, shaking his head a little and smiling ruefully. He should have known better to try to convince any of the people involved that they can’t make it work, himself included. When Sid in particular sets his mind to something, he’s gonna take home the gold or kill himself trying. 

So Marc-Andre holds Sidney’s dear face in his hands again, rubs fingers through the hair at Sid’s temples. He can’t find it in himself to argue when it’s what he wants so badly, what he knows Vero wants, to have this thing they've built so carefully still a fixture if their lives, even if it really is going to be different.

“Okay,” he says simply, and kisses Sid softly. “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I literally never expected to be writing this universe for a myriad of reasons but here we are. Comments welcome!


End file.
